


Baby Daze

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, M/M, Out of Character, Pregnancy, Side Kisame/Itachi, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unconventional Families, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: Boyfriends Hidan and Deidara are facing their last year at university. But a small 'accident' sets off an explosive chain of events, and leaves the Jashinist and artist sharing a new title...dad.With Deidara asking for explosives at his baby shower and the baby swearing in the baby scan picture like Hidan, can they successfully master fatherhood?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest project! This fic was born from me asking myself how hilarious it would be if the two most disastrous Akatsuki members got together and had a kid. I adore HiDei as a pairing, and think they are the most explosive fun couple to write! I like their characters very much, and would love to explore their reactions to parenthood. Plus I LOVE the thought of a terror baby who shares their personalities!
> 
> As you can probably tell from the tags, Deidara will be transgender and pregnant within this fic. Before I go any further, I feel the need to point out my privilege, that I am a cisgender female, although I do fit into several minority groups (LGBT+, neurodivergent, etc).
> 
> My personal stance on cis authors writing trans characters is that I think it is ok, providing the author does their research, listens to trans voices, uses the correct pronouns at all times, uses the correct language, and ensures that they are respectful. As a Young Adult Fiction book blogger in real life, I have seen some published authors (coughJohnBoynecough) who get it very, very wrong, to the point that they are perpetuating stereotypes and actively harming trans people.
> 
> I like to think that I am respectful and would not do such a thing with my words, but if at any point, I get it wrong, please do let me know. You can leave me a comment down below, or if you’d like to talk in private, I have Tumblr and Twitter where I can be reached. I also have a Discord! I would rather have the opportunity to apologise and make it right if a mistake is made. I have engaged a sensitivity reader for this fic, so it has all been proofread and ok’ed by them.

“Are going to piss or what?”

Deidara glared up from where he squatted on the toilet seat, clutching the little white box. His shorts and boxers hung about his legs inelegantly, but he didn’t care. Hidan had seen him naked plenty of times, and sometimes they even showered together. “I’m reading the instructions!”

“But all you’ve got to do is piss, right?” said Hidan.

“And wait,” added Deidara, tapping the large number three on the side of the box. He pulled it open, handed Hidan the empty box, and then held out the stick. Some of it was blue, some of it was white, and there was a little box in the middle to display the result. He turned it over in his hands. “And know what side to aim for.”

Hidan wrinkled his nose. “Eww.”

“I’m the poor sod who has try and aim, dickhead,” scorned Deidara, waving the stick under Hidan’s nose.

Hidan recoiled, as if the stick had already been peed on. “Go on then!”

“Fine!” barked Deidara. He slipped his hand between his legs, clutching the stick, and held it roughly where he thought the pee was going to come out. He swallowed, and then tried to pee.

“Is it coming out?” asked Hidan, picking some of the peeling paint from the bathroom wall.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Deidara pressed harder on his bladder, and felt a few drops of urine trickle out. He pressed harder, forcing out the urine, grimacing, before a steady flow aimed at the stick.

After a minute, Deidara pulled his hand out, and shook the drops of liquid from the stick back down the toilet. He wiped himself dry, pulled up his boxers and shorts, and wrapped his dressing gown more tightly around himself.

“Three minutes,” read Hidan from the packet. “Do you think it’s already been one?”

“Do you have a phone?” asked Deidara.

“No.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait then,” Deidara closed and flushed the toilet lid, sitting himself back down on the toilet lid, opposite Hidan, as he continued to lean back on the wall. They both glanced at each other, then at the bathroom bin that needed emptying, the pile of finished loo rolls beside it, at the grotty bathroom mat that needed washing, and then back to each other. The tension in the air loitered like the steam from someone’s earlier shower.

Deidara swung his legs, while Hidan fiddled with his rosary pendent.

“Hey, Dei…” said Hidan, his eyes flicking over to the sink where they had left it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s done,” said Hidan.

Deidara picked up the stick. His eyes met Hidan’s briefly, before they glanced at the test together.

“Oh shit,” whispered Deidara, as he stared at the impossible. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Hidan swallowed, and stared down at Deidara, before whispering through dry lips. “What are we going to do now?”

Deidara’s lower lip wobbled. “Get Sasori!”

“Are you joking?!” exploded Hidan. “This is a major problem…get Kakuzu!”


	2. Boy Meets Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deidara moves away to university to begin his life, and meets Hidan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a flashback, where we meet Hidan&Dei in their early days and find out about how they fall in love! <3
> 
> As mentioned before, if there is anything that I have portrayed incorrectly, stereotypically, or uncomfortably, please drop me a comment down below, message me on tumblr, and I would be happy to take on board any feedback :) I have had this chapter sensitivity-read, so I hope it will all be ok!

It was a fresh start.

Deidara breathed in the scent of late summer-early autumn air, and imagined it full of the scent of smoke and burning rubble. He grinned, and knew that he was ready to start exploring the world of true art. He dragged his two suitcases along the grey slate path, as the orange sunlight dappled through the browning leaves, creating a pattern.

His long blond hair flickered behind him as his new keys jangled from his fingers. He swiped open the door, ignoring the young people with families clustered around them, and instead headed towards the lift. He swiped again, and came face to face with a family clutching several boxes. Deidara squeezed in, and held his two suitcases tightly to himself.

When it reached his floor, Deidara squeezed out, and breathed a sigh of relief. He made his way through the maze of corridors, before finding the room that had been assigned to him. He clicked it unlocked, and stepped inside.

The room was empty, but for a cabin bed, a desk, wardrobe, and en suite bathroom that was more like a closet. Deidara laid the suitcases on the bed, and then pulled out his art collection from the largest. He set out his paints, brushes, clay, pottery wheel, and various sculpting materials on the desk, before tucking the suitcase beneath the bed. The second suitcase held his laptop, bedding, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other personal effects. Deidara hadn’t brought many clothes, after he had decided that he was going to be starting afresh. He wore what he was wearing now, some fresh socks and underwear, and a spare few shirts and shorts.

Deidara opened the window to freshen the musty room, and closed his eyes, feeling the breeze on his face.

He spent the evening eating a meal deal he’d picked up on the train journey down. He sipped at a diet coke, sitting on the window sill with his feet propped on the opposite side, watching the orange lights glow as the sky darkened. He could see all the way across campus, and then down into the city itself.

Below the campus, down in the city, the music thumped and thudded an incomprehensible beat. Fatigued from the train journey, Deidara clamoured down from the window sill, and laid his cheek to the pillow, the smooth cotton a comforting caress. He let the beat soothe him to sleep, comforting himself in the knowledge that he would belong there soon.

* * *

The next morning, Deidara showed his new student identification card, and clamoured onto the shuttle bus. He shared that early morning ride with a few other students, clutching reusable shopping bags. He wore his second set of fresh clothes, having thrown yesterday’s clothes in the shower, mixed in some shampoo, and then fired the shower nozzle at them.

In town, he slipped amongst the crowds, allowing his eye to slid sideways towards the art shop. It was tempting, but he had to remember what he was really here for.

It was time.

Deidara took a determined deep breath, and stepped into menswear clothing section of the first shop.

* * *

By the time the first week of classes rolled around, Deidara was ready to face the new hoards of people and show them who he really was. He was Deidara the artist, and he made things go bang. He packed his new bag with his notepad, pens and pencils, his timetable, a bottle of water, a snack bar, and an eraser, before strolling through campus. The sun had simmered away to a light autumn warmth, and more brown leaves blew across the ground.

New trainers squeaked on the pathway. Deidara wriggled his toes, still adjusting to the feel of them. Everything he had bought just felt so…comfortable. It sat on his body just right. Settling into classes that focused on the things he loved felt so right. Everything felt _right_.

Now that he was who he was meant to be, Deidara realised he’d spent long enough keeping to himself, and it was time to make a new set of friends, who liked him for who he was. And so out into the night he bounced, ready to make the most of the Freshers Week while it continued.

They’d given him a wristband in his Freshers welcome pack, that allowed him to flit between the clubs as he pleased. Deidara picked and chose as he liked, listening to various pulses of beats, all the whilst searching for his people. He ended up sitting at a bar that had quietened as everyone filled the dancefloor, or flocked the to the rowdier clubs to dance.

“Fancy a Bloody Mary?” grinned the bartender.

Deidara glanced up, to see the bartender gazing down at him. His hair was silvery-grey, slicked back, with magenta eyes. His shirt was open and he wore a silver pendant dangling over his bare chest. A tag on his chest read _Hidan_.

“A Bloody Mary?” Deidara raised his eyebrow. “Sure, why not?”

Hidan grinned wider, and then began to make Deidara’s cocktail right in front of him.

“How come you have to make it right here?” asked Deidara, watching as Hidan poured in the selection of liquids.

“It’s part of the full experience. Cocktail-making art,” said Hidan, shaking the silver blender in front of Deidara.

“You like art?” asked Deidara.

“No,” scoffed Hidan. “Do you?”

“I _love_ art,” declared Deidara.

“You know,” Hidan tilted his head, scrutinising Deidara’s appearance. “You do look like one of those artsy types.”

“Why are you doing cocktail-art if you don’t like art?” asked Deidara.

“For the cash. You get paid more to work unsocial hours in a bar,” replied Hidan. “And I’m a poor broke student.”

“Same,” admitted Deidara, recalling his shopping trip. “Hey, how did you find work?”

“They had an ad up and I brought my CV along. Plus they said I look the part,” added Hidan. Deidara’s eyes flickered over Hidan’s muscled torso, as his shirt clung tightly to him. Inwardly, he sighed, wishing his chest looked like that too. Maybe someday.

“Do you know if anywhere else is looking?” asked Deidara.

“Not the bars and clubs. They’re already full of new people, for the Freshers. But the cafes and restaurants…well, they’ll still be hiring. And you look like the sort to find in an artsy coffee shop,” said Hidan, pouring the drink into a wide glass. He stuck a straw in, and added a few final flourishes. “Just turn up, be yourself, and they’ll love you.”

Deidara smiled, and then Hidan presented him with a Bloody Mary. He held out some change, but Hidan shook his head.

“It’s on the house, pretty boy.”

_Boy._

Deidara’s heart skipped a beat.

“It’s your tip then,” he said quickly.

“You sure?” asked Hidan.

“Positive,” said Deidara. “Or, if you feel really bad, maybe make yourself another drink and it’s on me, yeah.”

Hidan smiled wider, and then stuck the change in the till. He began to make up another drink, this time for himself, before Deidara raised his glass. They clinked, and sipped from the straws.

Something had seemed to click between them. Some kind of strange understanding that the other was not alone in this world, even though they barely knew a thing about the other. Hidan served other customers throughout the night, and yet seemed gravitate back to Deidara. Deidara ordered another drink, and then another drink for Hidan to keep him talking, and then another. The hours slipped by, and soon, a very tipsy Deidara was the last person in the bar. The music slowed to a quiet pulse, and customers made their way back out the door.

“Best get going, as I have to do shutdown,” said Hidan, wiping down the bar with a clean cloth.

“Oh yeah,” said Deidara. His feet reached for the floor of the bar, but somehow didn’t make it. He steadied himself on the bar counter, and then slowly lowered himself down. “Nice…um…nice meeting you, Hidan.”

He walked in a wobbly line towards the main exit, and stumbled in the fresh air. His ears rung from the beat of the music, and he steadied himself against the wall. Deidara hunted through his pocket and his new wallet for some spare change, but then realised he had blown it all on drinks.

He sighed, before pulling out his phone. Deidara tapped over to his Uber app, and then began to mentally hunt through his various email addresses to cop a free ride home. He tapped through the app, logging out, trying to spell his email correctly, but failing. His fingers fumbled tiredly, before giving up and slumping on the wall. But he knew he couldn’t stay here, and he knew he just wanted to rest before the night was out.

Deidara groaned, realising he was going to have to walk a mile back up the hill to the campus. At least his shoes were comfortable now. At least he could remember the name of campus. He tapped in the directions to his phone, and tucked it in his pocket. He took a deep breath, and then walked around the bar, passing the back entrance, where the staff were emerging.

“Hey, what are you still doing here?” asked Hidan, breaking away from the crowd of his co-workers.

“I couldn’t get a cab,” complained Deidara.

“Are there none available?” asked Hidan.

Deidara didn’t want to admit he’d spent all his money, so he nodded.

“Ugh,” groaned Hidan. “Guess we’ll have to walk.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to campus,” said Hidan, pointing in the exact direction Deidara was going to take. “I’m in the Freshers halls.”

Suddenly, Deidara didn’t mind the walk so much.

“We can walk together,” suggested Deidara.

They fell into step, side by side, making their way past the closing bars, the still pounding clubs, and down the high street.

“What are you studying?” asked Hidan.

“Art, of course,” replied Deidara. “You?”

“Theology.”

“Really?” asked Deidara, giving Hidan a double-take.

Hidan laughed. “I may not look it, but I’m very religious.”

They walked back, talking, occasionally laughing, exchanging stories. When they reached outside of Deidara’s halls, they stopped.

“This is me,” said Deidara.

“I’m just over the grass,” Hidan gestured to his building. He took a step closer towards Deidara. “You know, I never caught your name.”

“It’s Deidara.”

“Deidara. I’m Hidan.”

“I know,” said Deidara, poking the tag on his shirt.

“I liked talking to you this evening,” admitted Hidan.

“Me too,” Deidara shyly admitted as well.

“I hope…we can see each other again?”

Deidara nodded, and pulled out his phone. “Here. I’ll add you to my Instagram.”

They exchanged social media profiles, and then tucked their phones away. Hidan took another step forwards, and Deidara took a nervous half-step. Hidan bent down, cupping Deidara’s face, tilting him upright, before their evening-chilled lips met.

* * *

They did meet up again.

And again.

They liked each other a lot.

* * *

“Dei,” growled Hidan.

“Hmm?” Deidara replied, his half-open sleepy eyes drifting away from Netflix and back to Hidan, as they lay spooning on Hidan’s bed.

Hidan’s fingers ran in a circle on Deidara’s hips. “I fucking love your ass.”

Deidara grinned sleepily. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Hidan gave one of the cheeks a squeeze. “So nice and juicy…just like a chick.”

Deidara went still.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hidan, relaxing his hold. He propped himself up on his elbow and glanced down at Deidara. “Don’t like me touching your butt?”

Deidara licked his lips, and whispered. “You can touch my butt if you like.”

“Dei, I’m not going to do shit to you if you don’t like it,” said Hidan, moving his hand to Deidara’s waist.

“I do like it,” insisted Deidara, grabbing Hidan’s hand and shoving it straight back. He snuggled down on the bed. “Just…don’t say I’m like a chick, ok?”

Hidan kissed his forehead. “Never. If you don’t like it.”

* * *

On a boring, rainy day, when Hidan was sick of studying, and Deidara was sick of studying, they holed up together in Hidan’s room. Next door, they could hear his neighbour Kisame blasting away on his x-box.

“Jeez…” groaned Deidara.

Hidan laughed softly. “Let him have his fun…while we have some of ours.”

Hidan pulled Deidara down on top of him, and kissed him with a passionate fury. Every centimetre of his lips sought out every single centimetre of Deidara’s, and he locked his hands around Deidara’s waist. Then they roamed up his back, over his waist, the curve of his hips-

Deidara stiffened.

Hidan moved his hands to Deidara’s buttocks, knowing that Deidara had said he liked it. Deidara relaxed back into his hold, slowing the kiss, so that it became long, indulgent and lusty. Hidan felt Deidara wriggle his hips against Hidan’s, and they both let out a low moan together.

Colour worked its way up Hidan’s chest, his neck, and inflamed his cheeks. His hands squeezed each cheek of Deidara’s buttocks, and then he flipped them over, so that Deidara was on his back. He heard Deidara gasp beneath his lips, and ground his hips against Deidara’s forcefully.

“Hidan,” Deidara whimpered.

“Oh babe…” Hidan’s hands went to the hem of Deidara’s shirt, wanting to feel Deidara’s skin slip against his. Hidan couldn’t wait to feel him, couldn’t wait to see the beautiful body underneath those baggy clothes.

Deidara stiffened. His hand pushed Hidan’s away. “Don’t!”

Hidan released Deidara like he was red hot. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t,” Deidara leant up on his elbows, panting slightly. His lips were swollen with their kisses, and his blond hair mussed. “Please don’t spoil it.”

“Never,” Hidan leant across, and tucked Deidara’s fringe behind his ear, so that he could see both ice blue eyes. “Never.”

Deidara relaxed, and seemed somewhat reassured. He reached for Hidan’s shoulders, and pulled him back down into his embrace. But the tension in the room had been switched up by a few volumes, Deidara wasn’t as pliant and soft in his arms now, and Hidan just felt so wrong, kissing him when he felt like this.

“All right, Dei,” Hidan leant up again, resting on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, yeah,” said Deidara, tugging a strand of Hidan’s hair, enticing him to kiss him once again.

“Something is wrong,” pressed Hidan. “You were upset the other day when we were cuddling. Has someone…ever forced themselves on you?”

“What?” blurted out Deidara, startling. “What? No!”

“Are you sure?” demanded Hidan, grabbing him the shoulders urgently. “Because if they did, give me their names. And I’ll kill them. I will fucking kill them for you. I mean it!”

“No!” cried Deidara. He shoved Hidan off, scrambled upright, grabbing his bag and his jacket, frantically pulling on his shoes.

“Dei!” protested Hidan, trying to sit upright. “Dei! Please! Don’t go…I want to listen!”

“I’m going home, I’m tired,” Deidara slipped out the door, while Hidan slapped his face in his hands and sank back onto his bed.

* * *

Deidara felt desire flaming in his lower belly, pulsating down to his groin. Even as he ran through the rain to his room, it still didn’t dampen his desire. His chest heaved, his lips were swollen and trembling and begging to be kissed. Deidara pursed them as he darted inside, hurried up the stairs, trying not to slip, and slumped on his bed. He let out a wounded howl.

This wasn’t meant to happen. This…love…and this…desire. Deidara hadn’t bargained tossing a relationship into the mix, along with all the other stuff going on. His plan was to become who he truly was, and then focus on his _art_. His sculptures were all around the room, taunting him. He was going to devote his life to being creative, and making wonderful innovative things that no one had ever seen before.

Not…cry in a ball on his bed because he didn’t know how to make love to his boyfriend.

He wiped his eyes, and resolved to concentrate on his art for the day.

And yet the tears kept flowing.

* * *

The next day was the first day of reading week, where there were no classes, as the students were supposed to spend the time studying. Most of the students had taken it as an opportunity to go home for the week, or stay chilling in their beds. But Deidara wanted to work, and so he packed his bag and made his way to the art rooms.

Professor Konan was supervising the virtually empty workrooms. It was devoid of students, as Deidara expected, but instead, Konan was accompanied by two young children.

“Muuuum, I’m bored!” whined the eldest, tugging at her shoulder.

“Find a way to entertain yourself,” replied Konan, typing away on her laptop.

“Muuuum, why couldn’t we stay at home with dad?” complained the youngest, prodding her other shoulder.

“Because dad has to work this week, even if you’re off school,” replied Konan.

Both children collectively whined.

“Hey,” greeted Deidara, putting down his bag on the closest work station. “Cute kids!”

“These are mine,” said Konan, sitting up and gesturing to each of them. “This is my daughter, Aika, and my son, Michi. They’re here in the art rooms today as it’s half term and dad’s working.”

“I’m bored,” complained Michi.

Deidara remembered his younger cousins, and how they would clamour around to watch him make art. Konan seemed to have plenty of work to do, and there was nothing wrong with taking an hour or two to keep the kids happy. “Hey, why don’t you let me show you how to work with clay, yeah?”

“Clay?” asked Aika.

Deidara reached in his bag, and pulled out some of his textbooks with instructions. “This is my favourite type of art, yeah…”

Deidara helped them mold and shape the clay into all kinds of shapes. Michi made some kind of bird, while Aika made the family cat. Then they both turned their backs and presented Deidara with a rolled up clay poo, which they then raced across the room to show Konan.

Konan shook her head, then presented both of the children with a five pound note each, to choose sweets from the shop down in the foyer. Deidara turned back to his work, and began to start the work he had intended to do before the children introduced themselves.

He’d been distracted while he was teaching them art, and now he thought about Hidan. Fat tears brimmed behind his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Deidara?” asked Konan.

“Yes, Konan?” he whispered.

A hand lightly rested on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“I…” Deidara swallowed the words. All the feelings bubbled up inside of him, and he wished he could speak. He wished he could talk to someone. But there was no one.

“You can talk to me,” said Konan. “Everything you say to me is confidential. But whatever it is, if you are at risk of causing harm to yourself, then I will have to report it.”

“It’s not that,” Deidara gulped back tears. “I don’t want to hurt myself.”

“Then what is it?”

“My boyfriend…” Deidara swallowed. “My boyfriend doesn’t know I’m trans.”

“Oh, Deidara,” Konan’s hand ran a comforting circle on his shoulder. It had been ages since anyone touched or held him like that, in a warm maternal fashion. His mother would pinch his cheek sometimes and call him ‘her beautiful daughter’ and Deidara would fight the urge to vomit in her face. “Can’t you tell him?”

“I don’t know if he’ll want me anymore,” admitted Deidara. “I don’t know if he’s just gay or if maybe he’s bi or pan. I hope he’s pan. If he’s pan, he might still want me.”

“Deidara, you are a man,” said Konan gently. “We can all see that. And regardless of his reaction, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“But I can’t be a proper boyfriend to him,” Deidara shook his head. Wobbly tears were making their way down his cheeks, splashing onto his trainers. His comfy trainers, the first pair he’d bought, the pair he loved best. He lifted his head back up, and stared at Konan with his light blue eyes. “The first time we…when we’re meant to…how are we supposed to…when I take off my clothes and I look like a girl?”

“An intimate relationship may still be possible,” said Konan gently. “You’re still the same kind lovely person, and all around you are people that love and care about you very much. Your body is only a part of who you are. And if your boyfriend can’t see that, it’s his loss, don’t you think?”

* * *

When he left the art room, Deidara knew. He was going to have to tell Hidan. If he wanted things to progress in the way he wanted to with Hidan in his life, then he was going to have to tell him. Hidan had always respected and cared for Deidara, and he deserved the truth, and Deidara deserved to openly be who he really was. And then they could make up their minds if it was going to work.

* * *

“Hey Hidan,” said Deidara, as they chilled in Hidan’s bed. It was a few days later from their aborted makeout session, and Deidara had tentatively began making overtures by tagging Hidan in memes he knew Hidan would like, and taking him his favourite coffee for after class. Today, Hidan was doing uni work, sitting propped up on the pillows, while Deidara sat beside him and watched an art program for class on Hidan’s laptop.

“Yes?”

Deidara swallowed, wondering how to broach the question. Instead, he simply blurted out. “Are you just into guys then?”

Hidan’s eyes lifted from his work. “Just guys?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” Hidan shook his head. “I look for personality, not gender.”

“Oh,” sighed Deidara.

“Why?” asked Hidan.

“No reason,” lied Deidara.

“What do you like, then, Dei?” asked Hidan, folding his arms on his book.

“I like you,” said Deidara. He glanced away, out the window overlooking the hills away from campus. “I never really had a chance to explore…I had myself and other stuff to worry about.”

“I get you,” said Hidan.

Deidara felt Hidan’s hand reach over and cover his knee. He flicked his program back on, and settled back down cross-legged to watch it, ignoring the feel of Hidan’s hand stroking and caressing his inner thigh. Eventually Hidan gave up, evidently realising Deidara wasn’t in the mood, or simply wasn’t ready yet.

But Deidara was ready to do something else.

* * *

One day, when Hidan had waited for Deidara to finish his shift, they wandered to the art rooms, where Deidara had some workshop things to do. Hidan propped himself up on the table, while Deidara pulled out all the sculpting equipment, and pushed his hair out of his face.

There was something on Deidara’s mind, as he seemed jittery. He had been jittery since the day he’d blurted out and asked Hidan if he was just gay or into other people. But really, it had started when Hidan began making more intimate overtures. All Hidan wanted was to know why Deidara acted the way he did, so he could treat him right. If Deidara wasn’t ready, then Deidara wasn’t ready.

Hidan flicked through his book, ignoring the sighs of a red-haired man across the room as Hidan stuck his feet up on the chair in front of him.

“You know, Hidan, I need to talk to you, yeah,” said Deidara lowly, and quietly.

Hidan’s eyes flickered up off the page. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“I have to tell you something,” admitted Deidara.

“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” tutted the red-haired man.

“Shut up!” retorted Hidan. He glanced down at the man, realising how short he was. “Where’s your mum, anyway, kid? Should you even be in a uni room?”

The man flared as red as his hair, and stood upright. “I’m Professor Sasori Akasuna, specialist in puppetry, and a senior lecturer at this university!”

“Well…you’re using some pretty fucking good botox,” complimented Hidan.

“You disgust me,” spat Sasori, storming out.

“That was my fucking tutor, yeah!” hissed Deidara, grabbing Hidan by the Jashinist pendent. “You’re such an asshole!”

“But I wanted to hear what you had to say!” protested Hidan, prising Deidara’s hands off the silver chain.

“It doesn’t matter!” scolded Deidara, releasing his hands, and flinging Hidan away.

Hidan stormed back over, standing closer to Deidara. “It does if you wanted to talk about it.”

“I’m trans. There!” shouted Deidara.

Hidan did a double take. “You’re what?”

“Transgender!” Deidara shouted again. “There! Now you know.”

“Oh!” Hidan tickled pink. “Oh!”

“You can dump me if you want,” said Deidara flatly. “But…I’ll miss you. Even when you’re being an asshole.”

Hidan suddenly looked very hurt. “Why would I dump you for being trans?”

Deidara bit his lip. “Some people get weirded out.”

“Nothing weird about it,” said Hidan. He picked up his study book from out of his bag and showed it to Deidara. “Look, Dei. I study different religions. There’s always been third gender people and two-spirits in all kinds of religions and cultures around the world. People loved them back then, and there are people who love them now. It’s normal, Dei. And I fucking like _you_. Nothing changes that.”

“Oh,” Deidara visibly relaxed, and looked like he was going to simultaneously burst out laughing and start sobbing onto his pottery wheel.

Hidan stared at him. “What’s the matter?”

“It feels too good to me true, yeah,” Deidara rubbed his button nose with the back of his hand, inadvertedly smearing clay across his cheeks.

Hidan flung his arms around Deidara’s waist, hugging him closely, breathing in the scent of clay and singed hair. He pressed several kisses to the top of Deidara’s forehead, feeling the strands of blond hair rustle beneath his lips.

“Are you done?” demanded Sasori, flinging the door back open again, with several security guards to remove Hidan.

* * *

Even after Hidan was marched out of the art building for insulting Sasori, he and Deidara only seemed to grow closer. After one long, trying day, when they were crashing in Deidara’s room after an overload of uni, work, and studying, Deidara felt comfortable enough to unbind his breasts beneath his shirt and breathe easy. Hidan didn’t blink an eyelid or say a word, apart from offering to rub Deidara’s shoulders if he wanted, and they ended up cuddling just like normal.

When he felt anxious about attending his medical appointments to pick up his hormones, it was Hidan he chose to invite along with him and hold his hand in the waiting room. Whenever he had a counselling session, it was Hidan he asked to wait outside with him before he went in, and then wait outside for him until the session was over.

Honestly, for all his bluntness, his cursing, his mannerisms, there was no one else in the world that Deidara could open up to and trust like this.

* * *

After Christmas, Deidara seemed unusually quiet compared to his loud, boisterous self. Hidan came over the first night they were all back in their student halls, and Deidara was simply mooching around his room in tracksuit bottoms, a baggy shirt, and his hair loose. He nodded hello, and then offered Hidan a selection box of chocolates.

They didn’t know much about their families. Hidan didn’t think his parents or his childhood and current family life were particularly interesting topics to discuss, and Deidara kept a tight lip about his parents. But this night, reunited, they ordered in takeout, and silently munched their way through pizza while staring at Netflix.

“What’s up, Dei?” asked Hidan, chomping his way through a pizza.

“Nothing,” said Deidara, dipping a potato wedge in barbeque sauce. He swallowed it one mouthful. “Nothing’s up.”

“Something’s up,” Hidan pressed, poking Deidara with the crust of his pizza.

“I…I just don’t think I’m going to go back home next Christmas,” admitted Deidara, fiddling with his long hair. “And…I’m thinking of where I should spend summer, yeah.”

“Stay here,” said Hidan, stuffing a mozzarella stick in his mouth.

“We have to clear out at the end of May,” replied Deidara.

“We’ll get a house,” said Hidan, swallowing the mozzarella stick and grabbing a barbeque wing. “We have to start looking for next year’s housing soon anyway. And don’t they turn some of the student halls into summer accommodation anyway? We’ll stay here all summer and get second jobs and spend the money on whatever the fuck we want.”

Deidara began to smile, but then the corners of his lips drooped once again. “Easter. There’s also Easter.”

“No one goes home over Easter because of exams,” said Hidan firmly. He grabbed another barbeque wing, tearing off the flesh with his teeth. “And anyway, don’t you want to start thinking about a house next year?”

“You want to live with me?” asked Deidara.

Hidan chucked away the chicken bones and licked his fingers. “Sure. You’re my favourite fucking person.”

Deidara tugged Hidan’s chin down, and they shared a pizza-y, garlic bread-ish, barbeque-winged kiss.

* * *

Moving in together didn’t go as easily as planned. Finding somewhere for the two of them to live that they could afford working part-time jobs and on student loans simply wasn’t viable. And in the end, they were forced to double-up.

Hidan had a pal who lived in his student halls, Kisame, and he was looking for a place to stay with a friend of his, Itachi. When Deidara met Kisame, he instantly liked him, and felt at ease. He, Hidan and Kisame spent the evening having a games night, and Deidara knew that he wanted to live with him.

The four of them clubbed together, and went out to look for a house. Within a few months, a house was found, and Kisame took over the downstairs bedroom, Deidara and Hidan took over the first floor bedrooms, while Itachi took over the attic room, lurking above them.

* * *

Exams arrived. Hidan had the most due to studying theology, while Deidara’s were mainly practical projects to be completed. The Easter holidays passed as Hidan said they would, being mainly a period for studying. Deidara had no reason to go home, and he did not plan to. Some messages from various family members arrived, asking when their daughter was going to bring his boyfriend home to meet them. Deidara politely declined, since whatever daughter they had, was an entirely fictional being of their own making.

* * *

The following year, when he was two years into his transition, Deidara scheduled his top surgery. He had worn through a few binders, and in the eyes of the health service, had been ‘living as a man’ for long enough to qualify. His voice had deepened from the hormones, and he even started speaking in a lower tone than Hidan.

Hidan brought Deidara the letter as they mooched around in the kitchen making breakfast late in the afternoon. Kisame and Itachi were out at work and class, and so they could do as they liked.

Hidan had just stolen some pop tarts from Itachi’s cupboard and shoved them in the toaster, when he noticed Deidara scowl at the language in the confirmation letter.

“Living as a man…fucking _rude_ …I’ve always been a man,” he growled. Hidan watched Deidara’s hands trembled, as he resisted the urge to rip it up. Instead, Deidara carefully folded it up and put it in his dressing gown pockets.

Deidara turned to the kettle, stealing a teabag from one of the boxes of Itachi’s neatly stacked pile of tea.

“He’s going to hate us,” warned Hidan, as Itachi’s boxes of tea wobbled precariously, when Deidara put the box back in the wrong place.

“Well, he can get over it,” retorted Deidara, pouring hot water into his mug with shaking hands.

* * *

As soon as Deidara’s exams at the end of his second year were complete, he travelled up to the hospital for chest reconstruction. Hidan followed along, determined to sit as close to the operating theatre as possible and wait throughout the long hours.

“You nervous?” asked Hidan, as Deidara changed into an unattractive hospital gown and readied himself for surgery.

Deidara’s whisper was dry. “Yeah.”

Hidan wasn’t sure what to say to comfort. Soft words were never his forte. Instead, he settled for. “You don’t have to…if you’re scared.”

“I do,” said Deidara. He set his jaw firmly. “I want to.”

“When you wake up, it will all be over,” said Hidan. “And I’ll be there to give you all the fucking ice chips you want.”

Deidara lounged back in the hospital bed, and Hidan watched as the nurses and anaesthesiologist fussed over him, putting monitors on him, tucking his long blond hair behind him in a bib. To Hidan, he looked quite small and lost in the sea of medical turquoise sheets.

They let him follow as far as the theatre doors, where Hidan leant over and pressed a kiss to Deidara’s forehead, before a nurse guided him to a waiting room. Hidan paced and paced, alternating between checking his phone, the time, before clutching his pendent, kissing it, kneeling to the ground and praying for Deidara’s successful surgery.

Deidara had known enough pain.

He didn’t need to know more.

* * *

When Deidara took the bandages off and looked at his bare chest in the mirror, a sense of unusual calm waved over him. Unusual in that he had never known it, and upon this second, realised that this was how he should feel for the rest of his life.

“Looking handsome, Dei,” grinned Hidan.

Deidara lightly ran his finger across one of the scars. “Now I don't have to worry about getting clay all over my chest, yeah."

Hidan snorted. “Only you would say that.”

“This year is going to be great,” decided Deidara, putting his hands on his hips, pleased with his appearance. “From now on, I can focus on my art, and my handsome man.”

Hidan frowned. “What handsome man?”

Deidara rolled his eyes. “That’s you, dickhead!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, I love these two boys!
> 
> Now...back to the present!


	3. Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present day, Deidara picks a fight with Sasuke, and then realises there could be a reason he's moodier than usual...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is getting started! Yay!
> 
> I loved adding in all the characters and how they translate to a modern au, especially grumpy art lecturer Sasori.
> 
> And I love my cute yahikona babies! <33

“Can we clean up in here?” Itachi sniffed, glancing around the living room of their house. “My brother is coming to visit.”

“And does Sasuke need us to roll out a red carpet for his arrival too?” demanded Deidara.

Itachi looked confused. “Why does he need a red carpet?”

“Never mind,” shrugged Deidara, before turning back to the x-box. His car zoomed across the screen, and he frantically hammered harder on the controls, keeping himself firmly locked in first place. When Itachi stared steadily at him, he immediately felt his teeth go on edge. “It’s SARCASM. Sasuke needs a red carpet because you treat him like an A-list celebrity and clean the house when really he’s an overgrown brat.”

“You know,” said Itachi thoughtfully. “Maybe we can put a red carpet down for you when you’re a famous artist. If you can make it famous.”

Deidara resisted the urge to fling the x-box remote at Itachi’s head, as he felt Itachi’s unnerving dark eyes on the back of his head. He was probably the weirdest roommate Deidara could have asked for. He walked around with one arm clutched close to his body, one birdlike hand dangling. All his stuff was neatly stacked around the house in ‘his’ order and if anyone messed it up, he would get pissed.

He made endless lists and rotas for cleaning and on one occasion, dumped all Deidara’s dirty plates and cutlery outside of Deidara’s door, which a furious Deidara tripped over when he finally woke up. He’d put the hoover outside of Hidan’s door when it was apparently Hidan’s turn to do the hoovering, so that when Hidan emerged at midday, he stumbled over it. When they both confronted Itachi when he returned from his job at the library, Itachi stared them both in the face and told them point-blank that they were dirty. It took all Deidara’s strength and willpower not to throw one of the pots at Itachi’s head.

Kisame was much cooler, and Deidara didn’t get what either of the pair saw in each other. Kisame had pet fish that he kept in his bedroom illegally, since in their contract they weren’t allowed pets. His room was the chillout room, and he gave the best hugs ever. He’d brought them the x-box, and he made good meals, and he had a cuddly giant shark toy called Samehada.

And yet he and Itachi were as thick as thieves, and sometimes they even cuddled. It was weird seeing Itachi’s birdlike frame snuggled against muscled Kisame. And it was downright bizarre seeing someone so prickly and prissy relaxing into another person’s embrace.

“Just GET OUT!” shouted Deidara. “It’s my day off and I want to relax!”

Itachi turned away, and yet Deidara still had a nasty feeling that Itachi had somehow won the battle. He settled back on the sofa, and yet felt like he could not truly relax again. If that annoying Sasuke brat was round here, then Deidara knew he wouldn’t get a day’s peace.

The last time Sasuke came round, he told Deidara his art looked like a child’s scribblings and that the family dog Shiro could do better. Deidara threw one of his kilned sculptures at Sasuke’s head, and Sasuke ducked, so that it smashed against the wall. Deidara wasn’t bothered that it smashed. Art was meant to be fleeting anyway. He was bothered because Sasuke ducked.

In absolutely no way would Deidara consider hiding in his room from Sasuke, and so he settled more firmly against the sofa, and resolved to go and steal some of Itachi’s food later. Itachi’s mother constantly sent care packages, with usually loads of good stuff that Deidara couldn’t afford on his student budget.

He had been playing for another hour when Itachi reappeared, and opened the front door to greet Sasuke. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, nuzzling his face against Sasuke’s spiky hair.

Deidara fought the urge to vomit. He hadn’t spoken to his siblings in years and sometimes forgot they existed. He wished he could forget his parents existed.

“Mama sent you these,” Sasuke held up a ‘bag for life’ full of goodies.

Itachi’s eyes went wide, and he rummaged through. “She did?”

“She said she misses you,” said Sasuke.

“Oh, I know,” sighed Itachi.

“It’s not long until you finish your final year,” said Sasuke hopefully. “Do you think you’re going to move back home? What are you going to do?”

Itachi’s face went very blank. “I’m not sure yet.”

Deidara listening intently, before shrugging. He didn’t care what Itachi did, after all.

“Let’s sit down and have some sweets. Are you thirsty? Shall I make some tea?” asked Itachi.

Deidara flicked the volume switch up on the television to irritate Itachi, and held back a sudden wave of nausea. He told himself it was because Sasuke had entered the room and slumped in one of the armchairs.

“You’re still here then,” he stated.

“Where else would I be, yeah?” demanded Deidara.

“Still making your shit art?” asked Sasuke.

“My art isn’t shit,” growled Deidara. On the television screen, the car he was driving slammed into another car, knocking it out of the way. Deidara pressed on the accelerator, speeding up further.

Itachi re-emerged, carrying two cups of rose mint tea. He handed one to his brother, and kept one for himself, before settling down beside Deidara. He tucked his feet up under his legs, and took a sip, giving a deep sigh.

Deidara sniffed, inhaling the overwhelming sweet stench of mint and rose. The nausea suddenly increased by ten times, and his mouth went dry.

“How’s school, Sasuke?” began Itachi, but then Deidara’s game remote landed suddenly in his lap.

Deidara ran out the room, thundered up the stairs, heaving and heaving. He flung himself over the toilet, blond hair falling with him, before vomiting profusely. His eyes watered and shoulders shook, and when he was done, he sank back on his ankles, wiping his mouth.

“Dei?” called Hidan worriedly.

“I’m all right,” Deidara managed. “Just sick.”

He clamoured upright, rinsing his mouth out with cold water, before washing his face and hair with a wet flannel. He threw some of the bleach that Itachi bought down the toilet, flushing away the sick.

Hidan appeared in the doorway. He reached over and pulled Deidara’s hair back, looking at him with a concerned expression.

“Flu?” he asked.

“I don’t know, yeah,” Deidara shivered, letting Hidan pull him into an embrace. “I just came over all sick.”

Hidan grinned. “Too much to drink?”

Deidara grinned back. “Maybe.”

“Pisshead,” called Kisame from downstairs. Both Deidara and Hidan snickered, and Hidan helped Deidara back into his room, where Deidara flopped on his bed. 

* * *

 

Sasuke left late afternoon. Deidara cheered his departure up by standing on the stairs and sticking his middle finger up at the door as Itachi closed it. He didn’t have time to put his finger back down before Itachi turned around, and stared at him.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Your brother is a dick. He said my art was shit, yeah,” said Deidara, putting down his middle finger.

“He’s a kid,” scolded Itachi.

“I don’t care!” shouted Deidara.

“I don’t see you complaining about the food that my family bring,” Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps secretly you do enjoy his visits.”

Deidara swallowed guiltily, before retorting. “It’s karma and revenge for making me put up with him, yeah.”

“I would put up with your family if you wanted them to visit,” said Itachi.

“Well, I don’t,” barked Deidara. He had more he wanted to say, but then the waft of the oven door opening as Kisame checked on a lasagne that Mikoto had sent Itachi, along with homemade chips, forced a roiling wave of nausea to flood back up his body. He abruptly turned, and ran back into the bathroom, vomiting once again.

His family had never visited, in comparison to Itachi’s family, who seemed to shove their noses in every other minute. Deidara didn’t want them to visit. He doubted they would even know him now, or like how he lived his life. It was better leaving them with their memories.

At dinner, they sat on the sofa and armchairs in the living, eating from trays, since there was no room for a dining table. Hidan dumped himself down in the middle of the sofa, and stuck his feet up on the coffee table. Deidara perched next to him, while on the other side, Itachi tucked his feet under his legs on the corner of the sofa. Kisame filled out the entire armchair with his muscles.

They all ate differently. Itachi pecked at his food, nibbling delicately, eating the vegetables first, then the carbohydrates, then the meat. Hidan shoved forkfuls into his mouth, indiscriminately between whatever was on his plate. Kisame appreciatively cut the lasagne into strips, alternating between chips, salad and lasagne.

Meanwhile, Deidara pushed the chips around the plate, nibbled at the salad, pushed it aside, tried to spoon some of the mince in his mouth, but swallowing stickily.

“What’s up, Dei?” asked Hidan. “It’s good, honest.”

Deidara tried to nibble the chips and the salad, knowing that they were blander and less nausea inciting than the flavoursome lasagne.

Kisame flicked on the television, and then tapped through to Netflix.

“All right, roomies, what do you want to watch?” he asked.

They shouted out their various choices, before Kisame ceded to Itachi’s request. Deidara rolled his eyes. He chewed on the chips, hoping it would settle his stomach, nibbled half of the lasagne, before defeatedly moving onto the salad. The food sat heavily at the bottom of his belly. Hopefully, by the next day, it would pass. 

* * *

 

The next morning, Deidara clamoured out of bed, over Hidan snoring, then went back to his own room. He grabbed his water bottle, then pulled out the pills he took daily. He counted them all out, and downed them, one after the other, before smiling into the mirror across the room. He wandered over to the wardrobe, hunting for some clean clothes, before choosing some jeans and a cropped shirt.

The shirt fitted snugly over his body. Deidara frowned, before reaching for a comfy oversized sweater to go over the top. He grabbed his jeans, and started to tug them on. They fitted snugly over his legs, his thighs, his hips, but then as he tugged them closer to do the zip up, they would go no further.

Deidara scowled. They only fit him last week. He made one final attempted to pull them closed, but it didn’t work. Giving up, he shimmied out of them, and reached for a pair of elastic waisted trousers instead.

Down in the kitchen, Itachi sat on the kitchen counter sipping tea, while Kisame flipped pancakes.

“Your mum is making me fat,” he immediately accused.

Itachi sipped his tea, slowly and steadily, staring at Deidara.

“Didn’t you hear me?” demanded Deidara, hating Itachi’s blank, uncaring expression. “Your mum is making me fat.”

Itachi lowered his teacup. “Who’s fault is that?”

“Hey!” roared Deidara. “Not everyone has a sweet lovely mummy who bakes them cookies, yeah!”

Itachi took another sip. “Is this what this is really about? Because I can always ask my parents to adopt you if you feel yours come up short. But my dad doesn’t like bad kids.”

“I’m not a bad kid!” yelled Deidara.

“Dei, give it a rest,” sighed Kisame. “This is uncalled for. You’re the one who’s been eating Itachi’s food. In fact…let’s be honest. We all have.”

“You do most the cooking in here,” Deidara accused, glaring at Itachi. “Have you been giving me kalteen bars, like in Mean Girls, or something?”

“No,” said Itachi. “But if my cooking is such a problem, maybe you should look how to cook yourself.”

“I can cook fine! I just can’t get in here because you’re always hogging the oven and every time I even try to make something, apparently I make the kitchen dirty!”

“But you are dirty,” stated Itachi.

“You…you dickhead!” exploded Deidara. “Who do you think you are? If you don’t like living in a student house, go back to your bloody parents, and then mummy can feed you all day, and daddy can buy you another car or perhaps a yacht, because you’re a spoiled entitled brat!”

Itachi sipped the tea, swilling the cup and enjoying the flavour. He glanced back at Deidara. “Are you done now?”

Deidara silenced, angrily seething that Itachi hadn’t risen to the bait.

“Dei, this is uncalled for,” scorned Kisame. “You sure you’re not pregnant, or something?”

Deidara’s pout disappeared, and his face grew very white and blank.

“I can’t get pregnant,” he mumbled. “I’m a man.”

“Dei?” asked Kisame worriedly, thrusting the spatula at Itachi. “I didn’t mean…oh, I’m sorry, kiddo, I would have said it to anyone, not just you.”

One broad muscled arm wrapped around Deidara’s shoulders, holding him close. Deidara leant his head against Kisame’s muscled chest, before glancing at the clock.

There were twenty minutes before his class was due to start.

“Shit!” yelped Deidara. He grabbed a protein bar from Hidan’s cupboard, and grabbed an iced coffee from the fridge. “Sasori’s class starts in minutes…he’ll lock me out if I’m late!”

“Bye kiddo!” called Kisame, as Deidara bounded down the hallway and out the front door.

“He’s a funny one, Dei,” stated Itachi.

“The poor kid has had a rough time of it,” said Kisame, rescuing the pancakes, flipping them over, one by one. 

* * *

 

Deidara raced down the road, nearly colliding into a car, before down the next one. He ran urgently, streaks of blond hair whipping up in the wind. His chest heaved and he felt sweat slickened down his back, before he was outside of the art building.

Deidara slammed a hand against the wall, as he gasped for breath. He glanced at his phone, and saw that he had two minutes. He took off yet again, racing down the corridors until he found the room.

A short, red-headed man stood in the doorway, holding a key, and glowering at the latecomer.

Deidara went to rush past him, but Sasori’s arm smacked out across the door.

“You’re late, brat,” he accused.

“I have one minute!” argued Deidara.

Sasori gazed at his watch. “You have none, according to my watch.”

“Your watch is fast!” complained Deidara. “Just let me in – I want to learn!”

“I’m locking the door,” announced Sasori.

Deidara ducked down and crawled under Sasori’s arm. Sasori yelped, as Deidara practically toppled him over. Deidara triumphantly ran down to the front of the lecture theatre, and flopped into a seat.

“Brat!” snarled Sasori, slamming shut the door on the next latecomer, and locking the door. He stamped down to the front of the lecture theatre, glared at Deidara, and then loaded up the PowerPoint slides.

Deidara exhaled, and pulled out his notepad. His notepad was one he had printed himself, with a wild abstract design that he had painted and then scanned onto his computer. He had a few of them printed, and sold a couple on Etsy. But usually he had enough swimming around the place for him to use and to give to friends.

This particular notebook looked like the heart of an explosion, a swirling mix of reds, oranges, yellows, with even some blue to mix it up.

Deidara watched as Sasori wrinkled his nose at it from the podium.

He grinned.

As Sasori lifted his lidded eyes back up to address the rest of the lecture theatre, Deidara flipped open the notepad, and tapped his pen against the first blank sheet of paper he came too.

Immediately, Sasori launched into a tirade of how art was eternal. Deidara jotted down a few points, but not many, as he knew in whatever essay Sasori made them write, he was going to argue against him. Deidara settled for leaning his head in his hands, and staring at Sasori idly.

Two Sasoris swam before his eyes.

Deidara blinked, and sat upright.

There was no denying it. There were unmistakeably two Sasoris.

Deidara shook his head, and then he was swimming in a thick vat of clay. His mouth grew dry and his throat felt sticky, like drying clay before he could kiln it.

Abruptly, he stood upright, as the protein bar and iced coffee forced their way back upright.

“Sit back down!” ordered Sasori.

Deidara ignored him, and ran at full pelt against the door. He yanked the handle back and forth, before remembering it was locked.

The protein bar and iced coffee swirled violently around the pit of his stomach. Deidara wrestled more frantically with the door now, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to puke in front of everyone.

On the other side of the room was the fire door. Deidara ran towards it instead, as Sasori spun on the podium. He burst out into the light of the courtyard in the middle of the building, flung himself facedown, and retched. Thick gloopy brown muck spewed onto the soil, while Deidara wiped his strands of blond hair back.

_“You sure you’re not pregnant, or something?”_

Kisame’s light-hearted words floated through his thoughts. Deidara sat back on his haunches, eyes watering, and burned with embarrassment at the mess he had created.

“Brat! What are you doing?” demanded Sasori, standing in the doorway. Several sets of eyes stared around him.

“Demonstrating what I think of your eternal art, yeah,” retorted Deidara.

Sasori caught sight of the puddle of vomit.

“You should probably go and see a First Aider, and get signed off from class for the rest of the day,” Sasori wrinkled his nose. “Have you been drinking?!”

“No!” Deidara stood up, and stumbled back into the room.

“Get your things. I’ll take you there myself,” Sasori grumbled. “At least this way the staff won’t make you wait.”

Deidara followed Sasori to the admin office, the whole world spinning as he walked. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, before knocking the leg of a stray puppet that was hung up on display. He blinked, swallowing, trying to get rid of the bitter tacky taste in his mouth. Each breath he took in through his nose was sharp and sent more waves of unease and nausea through him.

Sasori pinged the bell at a little window, before greeting a woman he addressed as ‘Karura.’ Deidara wasn’t sure if it was her name or a term of endearment, giving the gentle purr of his voice.

He felt Sasori guide him into a little room with a bed decorated in bland medical blue sheets, and a cup of dispenser water pressed into his hand. Karura was speaking, saying he would be excused from classes, that the absence would be authorised, and then asked if he had anyone who could pick him up.

“Hidan,” blurted out Deidara. “Hidan will come and get me.” 

* * *

 

Hidan arrived in an Uber, and unwound the window of the backseat. “Dei!” he yelled.

Deidara stumbled over, open the opposite door, and slumped on the other side of the backseat.

“You puked?” asked Hidan.

“Yeah,” sighed Deidara.

“What’s the matter, Dei?”

“I don’t know!” admitted Deidara, although there was a niggling worry. He glanced at the Uber driver, wondering how the Uber driver read his identity. He had already spoken in a low masculine voice, he was wearing men’s clothing, and had been able to pass for the last two years successfully. There was no way he could tell Hidan, here, and now, in this Uber, with the driver listening in.

“Something’s wrong,” probed Hidan. “Itachi says you blew up at him this morning.”

“Because Itachi’s a twat.”

“He’s not that bad,” shrugged Hidan. “You’re a dick to him too, you know.”

Deidara sniffed. “Am not.”

He leant over and opened the window, letting the cool air play around the cab. He took a deep breath in, and sighed with relief.

“Kisame said you seemed very shaken and confrontational.”

Deidara opened his eyes. “Oh, so you’ve been having chats about me behind my back?”

“No,” retorted Hidan. “But I did get woken up by you bitching the house down.”

Deidara sulked, and folded his arms. They finished the ride in silence, before Hidan thanked the driver and gave him five stars. They clamoured out, and back into the house. Itachi had left for work, Kisame was out, and it was just them.

Deidara curled up on the sofa, and leant his head on a cushion. Hidan reappeared carrying some weak fruit tea, stolen from Itachi, and two plain biscuits.

“Here,” said Hidan. “Get your strength back.”

Deidara sipped the tea and nibbled the biscuits.

“Hidan,” Deidara whined over the tea. “We need to talk.”

Hidan folded his legs, and stared at him.

Deidara swallowed, before whispering. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?” blurted Hidan. His brows shot up his forehead, and his usual baby-faced expression went pale. He frowned. “How?”

“I don’t know!” cried Deidara. “I haven’t had a period in over a year!”

Hidan chewed his lip. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not!” insisted Deidara. “It’s my own stupid fault. I shouldn’t have assumed…but I couldn’t take the pill because that’s female hormones!”

“Our fault,” said Hidan firmly. “Our fault. I should haven’t assumed either. I should have worn a condom.”

Deidara bit his lower lip.

“We should…maybe get this confirmed?” suggested Hidan. “Have you done a test? It might not even be that.”

Relief surged through Deidara. There were chances that this could be a sickness bug. Maybe he was bloated because his body was fighting off the infection.

He nodded.

“All right. Let’s go and get one,” decided Hidan, reaching for his wallet.

“Wait…” Deidara paused. “No, we can’t. We’ll have to go in the female shop aisles where everything is pink.”

“I can always go get it myself?” offered Hidan.

“Do you even know where to look?” asked Deidara.

“…no,” sighed Hidan.

They spent the afternoon dwelling over what to do, when Deidara’s phone buzzed. He glanced down from where Hidan had his arm wrapped around him, and noticed it was from Konan.

Konan was the Head Lecturer of the art department, and a much nicer tutor than Sasori. She had a husband called Yahiko, who worked part-time, while he raised their two children, Aika and Michi. But occasionally, Konan and Yahiko wanted to go out together, and for that, they needed a babysitter.

Deidara was the chosen babysitter. He used to have younger cousins and siblings back home, and liked to teach them art. Konan was once forced to bring her two children to work with her during half-time while Yahiko was at work, and Deidara ended up teaching them how to sculpt and then to make explosions. Konan hadn’t quite forgiven him for what happened to her kitchen, but at least she had someone she could trust with her kids.

“Konan wants me to babysit,” said Deidara.

“Are you up for that?” asked Hidan.

“Sure. Easy money!” retorted Deidara. “And the kids are cute.”

“Are they?” Hidan raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, I know Aika called you a toilet-head, but she’s like eight, yeah,” said Deidara.

Hidan grunted.

“Are you in a fit state to deal with them?” asked Hidan.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I don’t know, but something tells me Konan won’t want vomit on her carpet.”

“I’m not going to be sick on the carpet!” insisted Deidara. “And I can’t let her down…Konan’s nice!”

“If you say,” said Hidan. “But I’m coming too in case you’re ill.” 

* * *

 

Several hours later, they arrived outside of Konan and Yahiko’s house. Deidara knocked, and was immediately bowled over by Aika and Michi barrelling towards him and hugging him around the middle.

“Dei!” they both shrieked.

“Hey kiddos,” greeted Deidara, ruffling Aika’s smooth ginger hair and Michi’s spiky blue hair.

“You’re here!” cheered Aika, grabbing Deidara’s hand. “Mum! Dad! You can go now!”

Michi’s eyes lit up. “Hidan’s here too!”

“Hello toilet-head!” announced Aika.

Deidara snickered, while Hidan feigned being hurt. Both children led them into the living room, where the television blared and their toys lay scattered over the floor. A bouquet of origami roses perched in a glass vase on the fireplace, but one of the children had knocked them astray and a few lay on the carpet.

“Thank you for stopping by at late notice,” Konan swept into the room. She sucked her teeth, and then immediately restored the fallen paper roses to order.

“It’s no trouble,” said Deidara, kneeling beside Michi and Aika as they returned to the floor where they scribbled with felt tips on Konan’s paper. Aika thrust one of her creations under his nose and Deidara immediately gave a delightedly gasp. “Did you draw that?”

“Yes!” Aika nodded eagerly.

“You’re getting so good, yeah!” praised Deidara.

Aika flung her arms around his neck, and snuggled against him.

“Oi, kids, we’re turning this off and watching American Horror Story tonight,” threatened Hidan.

“No you’re not!” Michi ran over and tackled Hidan for the remote.

“You two have to be good,” warned Konan. “Deidara, Hidan, they’ve had dinner. Don’t let them convince you to order them pizza. And they don’t need dessert, so don’t let them convince you they need some.”

“Yes, we do!” Michi clamoured over Hidan, trying to grab the remote.

Konan ignored him. “Both children should be in bed by eight-”

“No!” cried Aika. “Michi can, he’s the baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” insisted Michi, even as Hidan pinned him to the sofa with one hand and held up the remote in the other.

“Both of you go to bed at eight!” warned Konan.

“But mummy!” they both protested.

“No buts!” ordered Konan. “You both have school tomorrow. Now, are you going to give me a hug?”

They clamoured up and wrapped their arms around her waist, burrowing their faces against her tummy. Konan bent down and kissed both of their foreheads. Yahiko emerged in the doorway, and hugged them each, instructing them to be good, before producing two chocolate bars from his pocket.

Konan sighed as both the kids shrieked with laughter, and grabbed the chocolate.

When they were gone, Aika clamoured over and sat on Deidara’s lap.

“Uncle Sasori says you were sick,” she announced matter-of-factly.

“I was, yes,” said Deidara.

“Did you have a stomach bug? When I had a stomach bug daddy stayed at home and read me stories,” said Aika.

“No, it comes and goes,” explained Deidara. “I’m not going to be sick now.”

“That’s good. Do you want some chocolate?”

“No, you have it,” Deidara wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she nibbled away, and then briefly wondered to himself what it would be like to hold his own child like this.

Michi slumped between Hidan and Deidara, slurping away on his chocolate bar. He gazed up hopefully with Yahiko’s brown eyes. “Can we still have a pizza?”

“What did your mum say?” asked Hidan. “No!”

“Please!” Aika sat up, almost toppling off Deidara’s lap.

“Your dad has given you chocolate,” said Deidara. “Why do you want pizza?”

“Because it’s pizza!” cried Aika.

“Oh right,” Hidan raised an eyebrow. “And who is going to pay for this pizza?”

Aika shoved the rest of her chocolate in her mouth, before jumping up off Deidara. “I know where there’s money!”

“Oi, oi!” Hidan climbed up after her. “No, you don’t!”

Aika ran ahead, and then Michi joined. They thudded up the stairs, into Konan and Yahiko’s room, where Aika knelt down by the drawers. She yanked open Konan’s drawer, before giving a little giggle.

“Hey!” Hidan went to close the drawer, but blushed furiously as he caught side of some lacy lingerie.

Michi giggled. “That’s not where the money is!”

“It was here!” insisted Aika.

“You shouldn’t steal from your parents!” scolded Hidan. He wondered whether or not to slam shut the drawers himself, but didn’t want to disturb Konan and Yahiko’s belongings. “Come out of there!”

“Both of you!” warned Deidara, coming up the stairs. “Come downstairs at once!”

Michi opened another drawer. “Here, look! There’s money here! Let’s have pizza!”

He held up several notes.

“That is naughty!” barked Deidara, grabbing the money. “You are not having pizza! I’m telling your parents you did this.”

He shoved the money back where it came from, and frantically tried to tidy the contents of the drawer.

Deidara took a brief intake of breath as he noticed three packs of pregnancy tests. He swallowed, wondering whether Konan was trying for a third child. It didn’t seem likely, given how engaged and driven she seemed to be in his lectures, attending conferences, hosting events. But he supposed that if Yahiko was the primary caregiver of the children, then it made sense that they would be able to care for a third child. But wouldn’t that be a strange age gap between the other two children?

Deidara swallowed, and slipped one of the packets up his sleeve as Hidan herded the children back downstairs. It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn’t face the feminine hygiene aisle in the supermarket…

Konan would understand, wouldn’t she?

Deidara hurried back downstairs once the room was tidied up and quickly stuffed the pregnancy test in his bag.

After the excitement of showing off to Hidan and Deidara, Aika and Michi sleepily snuggled on the sofa and watched the rest of their film. Deidara ordered them back upstairs and told them to put their pyjamas on and brush their teeth, which they did. He tucked them in, pulling the blankets to their chins and kissing their foreheads.

“Night, kiddos,” said Deidara.

“Night night, Dei,” mumbled Michi. “Come and look after us soon?”

“Of course,” said Deidara.

Downstairs, he cuddled up to Hidan on the sofa, waiting for Konan and Yahiko to return. He hadn’t told Hidan about what he had stolen. Or what he would say to Konan if she realised. When they did arrive, Hidan briefly explained about the kids, while Yahiko sighed and Konan narrowed her eyes.

“Those little devils,” Konan shook her head. “I’ll have a word with them.” 

* * *

 

When Hidan and Deidara returned home, they found Itachi and Kisame engaging in their favourite pastime in the living room.

They both snuggled on the sofa, with a blanket thrown over their laps. Kisame’s broad arm was wrapped around Itachi’s shoulders, while Itachi rested his head on Kisame’s chest. In Itachi’s hands, he clutched a steaming mug of tea, while Kisame held his on his knee.

On the television was a sea life documentary, this time about seahorses.

“My mum always used to say she wished she was a seahorse,” stated Itachi.

“Why would she say that?” asked Kisame.

Itachi pointed to the television screen. “Because the men carry the babies.”

Deidara had been tempted to fling himself between them and recline back, to completely ruin their romantic moment, but the theme of the documentary put him off. Instead he marched upstairs, and threw his bag down. He felt unusually tired, and so stripped off his clothes, and curled into bed in his boxers and shirt.

He felt Hidan slip in beside him, and entwine their bodies, like two spoons in a drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, oh dear! I wonder what the test will say...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading the prologue! I would love to hear your thoughts?


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